


A Lullaby Of War Drums

by MasterD1mwitt



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Found Family, Grievous finds a baby and decides it's a fine addition to his collection, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Obi-Wan has to help him be a good dad, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Robot/Human Relationships, Slow Burn, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, baby kaleesh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 17:01:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30041877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasterD1mwitt/pseuds/MasterD1mwitt
Summary: Grievous is unknowingly sent to either capture or destroy a Force sensitive child located by the Sith, but in the heat of the moment he finds himself incapable of turning it over to his masters. But one small act of defiance reminds Grievous of the man he used to be, instead of the monster they want him to be. And that leads him down the slippery slope of attachments and feelings, and maybe looking out for his new dependent's best interest is more fulfilling than pursuing his own...
Relationships: Grievous | Qymaen jai Sheelal/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 13
Kudos: 32





	A Lullaby Of War Drums

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [It's Just A Self-(Destructive) Way That Stops You Having To Be Human](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24285472) by [HunterByDayWhovianByNight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HunterByDayWhovianByNight/pseuds/HunterByDayWhovianByNight). 



> I was only recently introduced to Star Wars, so please excuse any mistakes I make. I was imagining 2003 Grievous while writing this, but either version of him works; I'm using lore from both Legends and Canon anyway while writing this. All italicized blurbs are lyrics from the song Pet by A Perfect Circle.

_Lay your head down, child, I won't let the boogeyman come. Count the bodies like sheep to the rhythm of the war drums._

He loved the sound of screams of terror. It was like music to his audio processors. As his battle droids stormed the cargo ship, General Grievous led the charge, cutting down anyone who stood in his way with his fearsome sabers. Human soldiers were nothing compared to endless, unrelenting hordes of machinery which felt no pain, no fear. Of them Grievous reigned supreme, his heart overflowing with gleeful rage as he chopped apart Jedi and their allies with the weapons of their own fallen brethren.

He loved the hot splash of blood against his chassis. Being bathed in crimson as he danced across the battle, leaving destruction, as well as his cape, billowing behind him. A disturbing parody of a white knight, the general's metallic exoskeleton shone in the fluorescent light of every room and every hallway he scoured for his scourge. His grotesque, inhuman appearance broke the resolve of even the most hardened of clone troopers, his fiery, slitted eyes locking on the cowering, crippled form of a soldier at the end of one such passageway, the corpses of Grievous's previous victims littering the space between the two warriors.

"Yes, run," the cyborg sneered as he slowly descended on the trooper attempting to scoot away, "you are only delaying the inevitable." Grievous sheathed his sabers and instead sauntered closer with his claws prepared; this snivelling wretch wasn't even worth dying by his prized lightsabers, he noted as the other raised a shaking blaster in his direction. He barely even flinched when the human shot at him, the energy round singing his metal plating as he cackled louder. "Pathetic," Grievous growled, shooting a taloned foot out to encase the human's head, relishing the satisfying crunch the helmet made as he clenched down. More blood spurted forth, seeping through his claws, staining his already crimson cloak.

His bloodthirst was sated, for now.

Even though the battle had ended, the screaming had not. Grievous's ear panels twitched as his receptors picked up the barely discernible, high pitched wailing of a survivor. Disentangling his foot from his prey, Grievous halfheartedly wiped the remaining bodily fluids on the soldier's own armor before rounding the corner to locate his next victim. Following the increasing volume to its source, he stalked through the residential wing of the ship to stop at a bedroom that wasn't otherwise out of the ordinary.

Every chamber in the vessel would be scoured in due time for anything pertinent to his goals; while Grievous was not privy to acts of piracy, intelligence told of the ship harboring more than just goods the Republic needed for their war effort, but of crucial secrets as well that could turn the tide in the Separatists' favor. When Dooku had assigned this mission to him he had initially thought it was beneath him, his skills better used on the battlefield than raiding any ships, but his curiosity had nonetheless been piqued, eager to discover what this secret trump card that he had not been fully debriefed on would be. As his droids secured the ship, Grievous hovered in the doorway of the empty, dimly lit room, scanning it for any signs of life.

Heat signatures were coming from a closet whose door was ajar, and as Grievous crept closer he noticed a trail of blood leading towards it; an injured human who must have escaped his army. The crying was at a too high of a frequency to belong to the limp body he found, however, but kicking it over revealed the person had died slumped over his true quarry. Grievous froze, stupefied.

An infant. The human had died protecting an infant. Barely old enough to be away from its mother, the small babe was bundled up on the floor in blankets, surely brought to this hiding spot in the chaos, still crying, although that was not why it was red in the face.

Its whole body was covered in ruddy scales, for it was a Kaleesh pup. The unmistakable pointed ears and fiery slit eyes identified it as such, even if Grievous didn't immediately recognize a member of his own species. Slowly he crouched down to better inspect the infant as it quieted; the only reason why a non-private ship would be transporting a single child to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant would be to indoctrinate it as a Jedi youngling. He recalled that his people were very rarely force sensitive, so this particular specimen must have been regarded as precious before seized from its family when barely more than a newborn. The utmost precautions and care taken when transporting it. Bitterly Grievous realized that his master must have known this and wanted to covet the child to do his own grooming into the ways of the Sith. The younger and more impressionable a youngling was, the better; too old and they were simply culled.

The clanking of metal on metal signaled that his battle droids were approaching him, likely to relay information and seek new orders. Several droids cocked their blasters as they entered, and without missing a beat Grievous bellowed, "Cease fire!" Obediently the machines lowered their weapons and silently awaited his next command.

With a tilted head the infant listened to him, then gurgled and reached for the cyborg's faceplate, recognizing it as a replica of the ceremonial masks of their Kaleesh culture. Hardened eyes stared back at its attention-seeking attempts, and a withered heart drummed loudly in Grievous's mind. Not much of the man he used to be still remained, just a sack full of organs and faded memories belonging to a body long since decomposed trapped deep inside his chassis. But those memories were of his people, of his family, and oh how much he had once longed to return to that body in that time long gone. Cautiously he raised the babe in his hands up to appraise it, for his massive talons could easily decapitate its soft, dainty limbs.

This pup had, too, been stripped from their culture, also with the intention of being turned into a killing machine for another's agenda. It must have sensed the kinship between them, for again it gurgled and reached out for the cyborg's face, this time close enough to grasp Grievous in a weak, but immobilizing grip. Gaze frozen on the infant's, he allowed himself to relish the sensation his sensors were relaying to him of the little Kaleesh's fingers exploring his face, curling around his swiveling ear. Slowly turning to face his army, Grievous clutched the child to his chest and ordered in a cold tone, "Search the ship for any intelligence about the Republic's movements, then destroy it. Do not leave behind any evidence of this vessel and what it was transporting, and that includes the child." As he spoke, the aforementioned babe curled up under his chin, searching his metal plating for any purchase. "There will be no mention of our capture of the force sensitive, especially not to Count Dooku," Grievous continued. "I will report to him myself. Do I need to make myself any clearer?"

The battle droids, incapable of motive or thought, simply saluted him with a "roger roger'' as he passed by them on his way back to his ship, The Malevolence. With his stained cape wrapped protectively around himself and his quarry, General Grievous ignored the destruction wrought around him, stepped over the bodies of clones and droids alike, his only focus on reaching the privacy and security of his private quarters. There he plopped the infant down on the grandiose bed provided to him among other furnishings, but which he had little use for, and stripped it of all it's soiled clothing. Being covered in blood and muck simply wouldn't do, Grievous tutted as he tidied up the increasingly fatigued babe.

Exposing its sex organs revealed that it was a male, and the cyborg couldn't help but let his mind wander as he absentmindedly groomed the wisps of black hairs on the crown of its head. Briefly he wondered if the babe had a name; Grievous had named plenty of children, having sired several dozen in his former life. He cherished each and every one of their own accord, but he couldn't help but particularly revere his first son; firsts were always special. The boy had always impressed and had grown up to be a warrior who brought him great pride, and whose death in the Huk War brought him great sorrow. Very rarely did Grievous indulge his emotions outside of rage, but he allowed his mind to swim in nostalgia as he swaddled the boy he had in the flesh in fresh cloth.

Jerralag had been the name of his first son, Grievous recalled. This boy was colicky like Jerralag had been, fussing with half lidded eyes unless Grievous allowed it to become comfortable in his arms. Sighing, the cyborg resigned himself and nested on the bed, figuring he might as well make himself comfortable, too. The new position allowed him to wrap around the infant, which it seemed to relish, purring in the characteristic way Kaleesh would to express content. The vibrations reverberated in Grievous's chest cavity, and he chuckled, "You are a manipulative little thing, aren't you?" It only continued to rumble with delight, and Grievous sighed again.

The Kaleesh were a proud warrior people; there was no pride in bringing children harm. When one tribe raided another, younglings would be taken as bounties of war and raised in the customs of their new adopted tribe, embraced by their new kin eagerly. He was not ignorant of what plans his master must have had in capturing the force sensitive child, and what sort of upbringing would entail. Count Dooku was not a kind or forgiving man -Darth Sidious even less so- not to mention a raging speciesist. The Kaleesh pup would not be raised with love or tenderness, it would never know unconditional praise, only ever be reminded of its place as lesser. No, it would not get to die a warrior's death like his son, instead it would be a tool to be used and then discarded.

Glancing back down at the sleeping babe, Grievous tightened his grip and brought it closer still. "You're mine now," he vowed, "all mine. No one will ever lay a finger on you...Jerry." The pet name slipped out unbidden, but he found that he did not wish to take it back.

"You continue to exceed expectations," Dooku's hologram said as he debriefed his master on the events later that night. "The Republic will be set back by the destruction of this weapon shipment, among other things. What happened of the youngling?"

So he knew, Grievous confirmed in his head. "It was disposed of," he replied apathetically, mind drifting back to the child sleeping in his chambers. He provided a convincing alternative series of events. "Taking care of it now appeared more efficient than having to deal with it later when it became a Jedi."

"Very well," the human responded, not giving away any emotions. "You are to remain at standby until our next course of action."

"As you wish, count," Grievous deferred as the communications ended. If Dooku wanted to keep secrets, then so would he.

…

_Stay with me, safe and ignorant. Just stay with me..._

Early every morning, General Grievous entered a pod to be hooked up and receive fluid transfusions for his gut sack. His organs still required nutrients, and still produced waste which became harmful if allowed to build up. More often than not, Grievous entered stasis in his pod and underwent the process while resting overnight, save himself some time when starting his day. The presence of the infant in his quarters prevented such plans, as he was loath to leave it unattended. Nor could it gain nourishment from his nutrient gel, but Grievous had the foresight to order his droids to gather all of the babe's rations of formula before destroying the ship of its captors.

Were he still organic, he could have been stimulated into producing the milk-like substance Kaleesh required for sustenance in their first few months of life, but alas the cyborg lacked all of his primary and secondary sexual characteristics. While it was once distressing, Grievous was used to inhabiting an unconventional body; every one out of five hundred or so Kaleesh were born a third, intermediate but distinct sex, and he had been one such individual. Although he had identified with the more masculine aspect of his identity, his true gender did not have a proper translation outside of his native tongue.

In his highly spiritual culture, he and others like him were regarded as close to the gods, for they held the attributes and abilities of both sexes; could both create wars and create life, as it were put. Indeed, in between battles Grievous had himself birthed a handful of his plentiful progeny, his first son Jerralag being one of them. Before the Huk War, most of his condition became spiritual leaders, but the general's unmatched prowess in battle had ascended him to the reputation of a god-king among his people.

That title meant little to Grievous now as he had to nurse a babe out of a bottle. The Jedi were certainly blessed with patience far greater than his, for he could feel his frustration bubbling as it fussed and squirmed on the bed. "If you refuse to eat, you will die," Grievous hissed, eyes narrowing as the infant arched its head away from his hand. He then lifted the other up with a huff, "Do I have to restrain you?"

Chirping happily, the babe attempted to nuzzle closer, and eventually Grievous conceded, holding it close to his metallic exterior as he readied the bottle again.

"Good," the cyborg murmured, slowly sitting down on his mattress. "Eating will make you strong." In his arms, the little Kaleesh nursed much more readily, its struggle to suckle from the pseudo nipple minimal. In between mouthfuls it mewled and grunted, and Grievous took the time to admire the pup. "You will grow to be a strong warrior, Jerry," he praised, then chastised himself. He was becoming too attached.

Then again, wasn't that why he took in the Kaleesh pup, to appease with it's familiarity whatever shreds of the man he once was remained? To remember what had been taken from him? The last time he had seen his family was when they witnessed the damage done to his body while in a suspension of bacta fluid, half dead and awaiting extensive surgery; the last time he had held the original Jerralag was in the desert, his progeny barely alive and bleeding out in his arms. He could still remember the stench of burnt flesh, the barely a man's body spasming in his lap, the soundless gasps for breath of a life slipping away from him like the sand through his fingers-

Coughing snapped Grievous out of his musings and he realized the babe was done with its meal, having trouble swallowing down its last mouthful. Reflexively the cyborg pulled the infant up against his shoulder pauldron and pat it's back until it calmed, curling up into his cape to doze. Hesitantly Grievous rested his head against the little Kaleesh, then closed his eyes and professed, "I have lost my family, just as you have lost yours. But I can make sure the Jedi never take you again. And you can be my Jerralag." He just wanted to hold his son again.

All of his other children were still alive, to his knowledge, although they were on a small planet far away, far from the burning frontlines of Grievous's new war. It was a war even they would not condone, a total war which ravaged entire solar systems; entire worlds were destroyed at Grievous's whim. A war of attrition, of ravaging the enemy with a scourge of fire and famine to starve them to defeat, ravaging the enemy of a man who wasn't his ally. Countless times he had claimed that he was not fighting for Dooku -and to a lesser extent Sidious- on the former Jedi's behalf, his quarrel was borne out of his own conflict with the human's former organization, his revenge for their subjugation of his people. Indeed, Grievous was keen on making the Jedi Council experience the turmoil of seeing everyone under their tutelage wither in misery and terror.

When the general invaded a planet, civilians fled in fear from their homes, from their places of business, to escape their death traps of cities as his droid army washed over them in waves. It was futile, as the enraged cyborg cut down their guards and soldiers with speed and strength impossible of an organic being. With delighted, dilated pupils Grievous watched his prey struggle as he weaved through the battlefield, arms spread wide in pursuit. Taloned feet left scores in the dirt as he closed the distance between each target, purring electronically as he butchered each one. While Grievous had to be retrained in how to use his robotic body, he was a natural in combat, with instinct and memory guiding his gilded limbs with grace unbecoming of a true android.

Eventually they pushed into the heart of the Republic's outpost on that planet, the settlement empty except for remaining soldiers attempting to slow their surge. Even they were scarce, their numbers dwindling as Grievous and his battle droids eliminated them one by one. Stalking through the flames of the ravaged city, and the cyborg came upon a clone trooper trapped under rubble, silently looming over the human as it struggled in vain. Wheezing heavily as the fumes irritated his lungs, Grievous was quite a sight, with all four of his arms wielding a saber glowing brighter than the fire, and the human's resolve crumbled.

"Monster!" It howled, its strained voice barely audible over the roaring inferno, and yet the audio reached Grievous's processors as clear as day. "Monster," it sobbed, its crumpled form cowering as the general snapped his extra limbs back into place and stared at it with an unreadable expression. "Monster..." it whimpered, until the soldier succumbed to its wounds and ceased to speak again.

Without a word, Grievous turned and left the battlefield, his white, tattered cape swirling around him as he stormed back to The Malevolence, leaving his droids to secure the area as he retired to his chambers. From the doorway he observed how his pup slept fitfully in the blanket nest he had constructed for it, rolling its head and limbs as if entranced in a vivid dream. He dare not draw closer yet so as not to disturb the babe, and ruminate in the shadows.

He was in quite a ghastly state, no need to startle the infant with his singed, bloodied appearance. His unnatural visage would surely inspire the same terror in Jerry as it did in others; his angular chassis and static expression provided little comfort. Both his cold exterior and affect were nothing inspiring of adoration, his own withered, broken heart incapable of even producing said emotion itself, just a facsimile of it, just echoes from his time in a flesh body. No, what he felt was an ache where the love of his family had once resided in his soul, an insatiable need to soothe it.

Cautiously Grievous approached the bed, and the little Kaleesh blinked its bright eyes awake at the sound of his approaching footsteps, then gurgled happily as its slitted pupils fell on his form. "Are you hungry, little one?" He asked as he outstretched his hand. Instead of shying away, his new Jerralag met him halfway, grasping a sharp claw in a feeble paw.

The inferno inside Grievous was doused, for now.

…

_I'll be the one to protect you from your enemies and your choices, son. One and the same I must isolate you, isolate and save you from yourself._

The part of Grievous that felt love had died years ago. It had drowned in the sea where his ship had crashed, it had been surgically removed along with his arms and legs, it was being suppressed both artificially by implants and organically by his trauma. Indeed, Grievous had an inkling that his mind had been meddled with more than he was led to believe, mood enhancers and stabilizers installed in his brain to manage his turbulent state; he guessed as much when he would have fits of irrational rage during "malfunctions". He dared not bring them up to Count Dooku, lest the human have doctors delve deeper into his brain to "correct their mistake", pick him apart even further. Nor did Grievous desire to become too emotionally invested in the Kaleesh pup he had appropriated from the Jedi, weary of what old wounds such a bond would reopen.

But such attachment was inevitable, for the babe required round the clock care, whether it be feedings, changings, or simple stimulation when the child became bored with resting. Even the basic task of thermoregulation was delegated to the cyborg to take care of, for the little Kaleesh's thin, delicate hide was ill equipped to handle how cold the androids preferred to keep their ship. An elaborate nest made out of the scant pillows and bedding materials Grievous owned sufficed when he had to go tend to his duties with the Separatists, adding or removing blankets as needed until his pup slept peacefully.

At first, the general was loath to familiarize his mechanical soldiers with the babe, weary of the knowledge of its existence being passed on beyond the ship. Were the Sith lord pulling the strings of his master to ever hear whispers of a force sensitive babe in his possession, they would immediately remind Grievous of Sidious's authority over all, that their will weighed supreme. He would face harsh reprimands for his defiance to turn over the child after the Sith took it from him for their own means, if it were not outright terminated to further rub salt into the wound. They were quite fond of punishing attachments in such a way. Regardless of his misgivings, however, Grievous couldn't simply leave his pup unattended for long periods of time, in case its biological needs demanded attention.

On Kalee, while the men were away at war with neighboring tribes, the women stayed put to run the tribe and provide for their children. They carried their young with them everywhere they went in satchels across the chest during their day to day tasks, even while hunting. There was once a time when Grievous himself would do such a thing with his own newborns without raising any eyebrows at meetings with other tribe leaders, the act normal among their culture. It wasn't as if he couldn't do the same with this new Kaleesh pup, he mused, at the very least it would allow him to always have an eye on the child. Thus was the reason as to why the cyborg was weaving a papoose out of a quilt to go around his chassis and placing the babe in the pouch. 

His droids had no initial reaction to the new garment, already used to their leader and his fondness for the attire of his culture. And with his cape wrapped around his frame, they were none the wiser to the babe Grievous was harboring as more and more often he brought it with him around the ship. It was his little secret that he relished, feeling the infant curled up for comfort against his chest as he gave out orders to unassuming battle droids, both parties oblivious to each other's presence.

That was the case, at least, until one day his pup began fussing while Grievous was attempting to listen to a group of androids relaying intelligence to him. The robots went quiet and cocked their heads curiously as they analyzed him, the crying continuing. "Uh, sir...why is your chest whining?" One cautiously asked. "Are you malfunctioning?"

"No," Grievous hissed, "now quiet, or I will punish you for your insolence!" Not a single peep came out of the anxious droids as their cyborg leader sighed and opened up the pouch on his chest, revealing a scowling, squirming babe. "Now, what do you need?" He grumbled quietly to the babe, ignoring his subordinates' oohing and awwing. Purring, it wrapped a dainty paw around one of Grievous's fingers, and he scoffed, "Attention? You just wanted attention?"

"General, your baby is very cute," the same battle droid from before piped up.

"What is it's name?" Another asked, one after another swarming Grievous to size up the new specimen, causing him to bristle up and subconsciously clutch it protectively.

"...Jerry," he reluctantly replied.

"Jerry," they all echoed in gleeful unison, and Grievous groaned. Jerralag, not used to so much attention, shied back into the sling and his caregiver's secure hold.

Noting on the babe's behavior, Grievous tucked it up against his chassis and said, "Yes...if you want to ever see him again, you will never say a word to anyone outside of this ship, or I swear I will turn you heap into scrap metal faster than you can say 'roger roger', do you hear me?" The group of hapless battle droids saluted him, and so he continued, "Good, now...Jerry needs to rest, so I am not to be disturbed unless it is an emergency." Electronic chitter chatter filled the hallway as Grievous sauntered off, his pup most likely the subject of their gossiping, but he did not care enough to eavesdrop to confirm.

When he reached his quarters, he immediately unloaded the infant into the blanket nest and sat down on the bed next to it. Instead of tucking Jerry in, though, he watched the little Kaleesh wriggle and gurgle, something almost akin to fondness welling up in his withered, but still beating heart. Every day the bat eared babe grew stronger, more active, now able to lazily roll around on his own. More wisps of dark hair had erupted on his scaly scalp, which Grievous absentmindedly groomed, much to his delight, slit eyes closing as he nuzzled against the metal palm of his caregiver. Jerry was also becoming more affectionate, the cyborg mused, noticing how more and more often his pup was able to recognize him, or would be calmed by his touch or his voice. "You hold great power over me, little one," Grievous admitted in as soft of a tone his voice modulator would allow, as the babe mouthed on his digits, and he found himself unable to muster his bottomless rage.

That also meant the Kaleesh's powers were growing as well, Grievous thought with a heavy sigh. He knew not how the babe's Force sensitivity would manifest itself, but he did know that the Jedi would never give up looking for the child to covet for themselves, to indoctrinate into their twisted ways. A life deprived of love, of emotions, that's what Grievous told himself he was saving Jerry from. Although he had destroyed any trace of the other's existence as well as the ship that had been transporting him, deep down he knew that the most devoted members of the Jedi would never end their hunt for the youngling that had been stolen from them.

If they wanted to come take his pup, they were more than welcome to try. Grievous would cut down each and every marauder with righteous wrath, and add their sabers to his harrowing collection. He had many opportunities to do so, and prove his dedication to his cause. Many times where he had to land on a planet to scrounge up rations and clothing for his new Jerralag, only to have run-ins with hunters from the Order.

Padawans were the easiest to go up against, they barely posed a threat at all and were more often than not easily shaken by his displays of might. Their teachers were a bit more difficult, but many of the lightsabers Grievous possessed proved that he could neutralize them if need be. Beyond the Jedi knights were masters whose paths he rarely crossed, but as the war raged on and more bodies were added to the cyborg's count, more capable opponents were sent to him.

Three Jedi masters cornered the metal general on a core region planet he could not be bothered to recall the name of at that moment after he razed its cities to the ground, along with an entourage of clone troopers. Unswayed by their demands to surrender, with ferocious grace he sliced apart the unnoteworthy clones with an ease that would frighten most, but not the masters. They remained poised and ready to strike when Grievous tired of slaughtering their soldiers, dancing around him, knowing he couldn't give one his sole focus without opening himself up for the other two to gain the upper hand. Splitting his two arms into four helped keep all things fair and even, but Grievous knew this would not be a clean sweep.

Within his new robotic body, he considered himself nigh indestructible, a sentiment further enforced by his sheer power and skill that resulted in consistent victories in battle. Leaving a burning field with barely a scratch on him, leaving behind a trail of blood and bodies and destruction, without ever feeling fear for his mortality, Grievous believed that he could never die. But as these Jedi tested every bit of knowledge he possessed, countered every maneuver he had learned from Count Dooku during their sparring matches, he realized there was a possibility of him not being able to return to his pup on The Malevolence. Even if they themselves did not recover Jerralag from his bed chambers, his ship would fall under the possession of his master, who would discover the babe sleeping soundly, defenseless to the Sith lords' coveting.

By luck he managed to defeat one Togruta Jedi; right as he was about to deliver the finishing blow to one of the others, a female Twi'lek knocked to the ground by his talons, her remaining companion, a human male, reached out through the Force to immobilize him. They did much more than freeze him in place, however, doubling him over by squeezing out the life that remained in his withered organs. Hacking violently, Grievous was barely able to dodge the next saber blow, finally finding the strength to break free from the vice grip as his innards nearly ruptured in his gut sack.

He could not die. If he did, there would be no one to return to his babe and feed the Kaleesh and redress it in clean clothing, no one to rock it to sleep when it fussed, no one to comfort it when it cried. No one would raise it properly, selflessly, instead opting to sever it from its culture to be groomed into a monster. No one cared about the infant like he did. With a guttural roar, Grievous charged at the warrior monks with renewed strength, hacking at them until the blood pumping in their veins was coated all over him.

Exhausted, Grievous returned to Jerralag, bloodied but victorious. At the sound of his wheezing it rose from a deep slumber, and he immediately shushed the other before they could fuss. "I brought you something," he told the pup, then presented Jerry with a doll he had found while in the city, still pristine despite being dropped by its owner while fleeing. The sound of purring greeted Grievous's audio processors, something no one else, Jedi or Sith, could ever take away from him.


End file.
